


O Come Ye Wayward Brothers

by Desvenlafaxine



Series: Cyx [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desvenlafaxine/pseuds/Desvenlafaxine
Summary: Operation Archon was one thing. The war - and it is, truly, a war - for Ala Mhigo is something else entirely.It weighs heavily on everyone in different ways.(Small pieces set in the future of Cyx, taking place around the first half of 3.0. Canon to Cyx - I'll get there eventually! - dealing with war in all its ugliness and glory.)
Series: Cyx [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875016
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	O Come Ye Wayward Brothers

Baatarsaikhan emerged from the aetheryte station and was instantly assaulted by the smells and sounds of her newest, and if she was being honest, her favourite place to be.

The Steppe had been her birthplace, but her return to the place had only left her with a bittersweet feeling of coming home to a house which had forgotten her; and besides, khagan or not, friends or not, the people there had been a tad...rustic, for her tastes. Limsa Lominsa had been her second home - and it would always be a place of safety and rest, no matter what the Crystal Braves had tried to take from her there, but it was missing something. The sounds of ships coming and going, the bustling markets, the packed taverns - yes, these were nice, reassuring, calming, even- but as she was let through the processing station's VIP line, she knew, deep in her bones, that this was the place for her.

Rhalgr's Reach was a place for adminstration. For planning. For logistics. Castrum Oriens was a waystation - a place people and goods moved through, now that the front line had been pushed up. But Porta Praetoria? She stepped out, staring at the night sky, hearing the sounds of exhausted recruits shouting marching cadences, of blacksmiths working tirelessly on blades and armour, of soldiers sparring even now at three in the morning, and she smiled, allowing herself a few minutes to savour the sensation of being where she truly belonged.

She began making her way over towards the cluster of command tents near the top of the encampment, exchanging greetings and words of encouragement with the soldiers and support personnel she passed. Halfway towards her destination, Baatar paused part way up the central steps to watch a pair of drill instructors, each bearing berets marking them as Operation Archon veterans - a tanned miqo'te woman that had to be at least 150% muscle with three spears slung over her shoudler, and a wiry, tall elezen carrying a greatsword so large that its scabbard nearly touched the ground - lead a pack of Eorzean Alliance recruits on a nighttime march. The instructors were Lominsan and Ishgardian, going by their accents, but they called out their marching cadence with such confidence and ease that it seemed as though they'd been doing this work together all their lives.

_EORZEAN SOLDIER WHERE'YE BEEN_  
_WENT TO TH'FRONTLINES AN' CAME BACK AGAIN_  
_EORZEAN SOLDIER WHA' DI YE DO_  
_I WENT AN' KILLED GARLEANS FER ME AN' YOU_

_WE SHALL HIT THEM HARD AND MAKE THEM PAY_  
_EVERY SINGLE SOUL MUST DIE SOMEDAY_  
_MAKE THEM SCREAM ALL DAY MAKE THEM CRY ALL NIGHT_  
_LET US COLLECT THEIR TAGS WITH OUR SHARPENED KNIVES_

_I SEES THE GARLEANS DRESSED IN RED_  
_THAT'S ME SPEAR STUCK IN 'IS HEAD_

_I SEE THE GARLEANS DRESSED IN BLACK_  
_THAT'S MY SWORD RUN THROUGH HIS BACK_

Grinning at the display, she moved on to her destination - a small tent at the far edge of the Command and Operations section at the very top of Porta Praetoria. A pair of guards - one an Ala Mhigan hyur, the other a lalafell, both armed to the teeth - noticed her approach, recognized her a second later, and stood at attention. "Captain," they both shouted, saluting.

"A' 'ease, guardsmen, there'll be no need announcin' my bein' 'ere t'the whole camp," Baatarsaikhan replied, returning the salute. "General Aldynn free?" She paused to check her pocket-chronometer, and frowned. "I'll be a bit early, I ken."

"General Aldynn's previous meetin' ended early, Captain Kha, and it was the las' one scheduled. The General'll be available," the hyur said, nodding. "You want I should let 'im know first?"

"Please."

The hyur ducked into the tent, and returned a moment later. "General's ready t'see you, Captain."

Baatarsaikhan found Raubahn sitting at a desk in the corner of the tent; surrounded by stacks of parchment and bearing a weary scowl on his face, he looked as though he hadn't slept properly in days. "General, sir," Baatar said, stopping in front of his desk and saluting. "Cap'n Baatarsaikhan Kha, here wi' new reports from me commandos 'bout Ala Mhigo's eastern defenses."

"Baatar," Raubahn rumbled as he pushed a stack of parchment out of the way to better see the young woman, "don't be ridiculous. Stop with the saluting, come take a seat." He gestured with his stump at a nearby chair, carefully cleared his desk, and regarded her with a tired smirk. "Three in the morning. You would not come here at three in the morning with reports unless it was an emergency, and if it was an emergency, you would not look half as nervous as you do."

Baatar sighed. "Does I look nervous, Gene- Raubahn?"

Raubahn snorted as the Xaela woman unbuckled her satchel and handed him a sheaf of papers, which he promptly proceeded to toss into one of the many folders on his desk without so much as a second glance. "You look as though someone has handed you a ballgown and told you that another night of dancing with Ishgard's nobles is to be your next task."

"Again," Baatar grumbled, shutting her satchel and rubbing at her horns. "I'll cut m'own throat 'fore anyfolk gets me'n a fuckin' dancin' dress again, I tells you. Y'heard 'bout that?"

"It is my job as General of the Eorzean Alliance to know what my subordinates are up to, especially when it concerns the head of the Commandos playing politics with Ishgard, yes. Besides, Lyse said you looked quite stunning! And," Raubahn added, grinning, "that apparently you drew the attention of a handful of suitors, even."

"Theys can go fuck 'emselves," Baatar spat. "An' I don' need you t'be yankin' m'chain 'bout lookin' pretty an' all. Lyse an' Kanna an' Shtola can be prancin' 'round half-naked. They's not th'ones wi' more burns, scars an' shite than they does skin."

Raubahn frowned, got out of his seat and walked over to Baatar; he retrieved a small bottle from a chest next to her along with two glasses and ruffled her hair with his stump before settling into a chair next to her. "Do not let the Sultana hear you speak of yourself like that, or she will have you executed. Or fitted for another dress. I think both would be punishments of equal threat to you, to be honest. Brandy?"

Baatar glowered for several moments before snatching one of the cups. "Sure."

Raubahn poured a small amount of brandy for each of them, and they drank.

Silence, for several minutes.

"So?" Raubahn looked at Baatar, an eye raised. "Spit it out, then, Baatar. I do need to sleep at some point, or so I'm told."

"I...ah...fuck." She held up her right hand, flexing the gleaming metal prosthetics which now stood in place of her middle, ring and little fingers. "Does...does yer stump hurt sometimes? Not, y'know, the stumpy bits. Th'arm."

"It does, sometimes," Raubahn said, closing his eyes for a moment. "At night. Sometimes when I wake, yes. It is as though my left arm and hand burn with an unnatural heat, a sensation of prickling needles. It is...better, now - it takes me only a moment for the sensation to leave me, where before the pains would last for bells." He paused, refilled their glasses, and they drank again; when he set his cup down he held the woman's gaze. "But I am no Chirurgeon, and you are not here to discuss ghostly pains, are you?" He pat her hand, felt the cool metal of her new fingers, and held them for a moment. "Come now. You have, in the past, confided a great deal to me. Let now be no different."

Baatar looked away; Raubhan could not see her face, but the clenching of the muscles in her bare arms, the tension in her neck told him that the woman was struggling as she spoke. "How longs we been fightin' Garlemald, eh? Not like Archon, or kickin' their arses outta Eorzea. I means, really fightin', in Ala Mhigo. War."

"Just about to be two years, I believe."

"Aye."

Raubahn was about to ask where she meant to go with this conversation, decided against it, and simply folded his arm across his lap, waiting.

"A whole fuckin' year, in the trenches, in the muck, an' shite. Takin' the fight to those bastards."

"Yes, it has been...different, and difficult. The fighting has been tough for us all. In different ways, too, for everyone."

"Naw."

"No?" Raubahn frowned. "No, I suppose not. Not for you. Yes. Come now, Baatarsaikhan, we have had this discussion before. You are a warrior - a capital W "Warrior," even. Both of us are martial people at heart. Death, killing, the battlefield - these are places, fields, we excel in, distasteful as it is. It means nothing, speaks nothing, of who we are as people. Of our value - our worth - as people."

"Right. Thas' what folks says to me, anyhow."

Another silence.

"I has a dream, I did, few suns back." Baatar now turned her chair fully away from Raubahn, so that she faced the wall of the tent. "Y'know. Killin' folk. The usual."

"Something changed."

Her breathing tensed; Raubahn put his hand on her back. 

"Aye. Same's usual. Killin' Garleans, feelin' good an' all. I knows yer not on th'frontlines so much now, but...howsit fer you, Raubahn? Wha's i' like, when you gut a man wi' yer sword? Whaddye' feel, when ye watch a man's light go dark, eh?"

"I am...proud, to be defending and liberating my home, and sad, that what I do is unkind, but necessary."

"I loves it."

Raubahn tensed, felt Baatar's back tense, and nearly flinched as the woman spun around on her chair, tears welling in her eyes. 

"I fucking LOVES it, I does. Holy Nhaama, Llymlaen and the Twelve, I feel so, so...alive, when I does it," Baatar managed through clenched teeth. "Out there," she continued, jerking her head vaguely at the direction of Ala Mhigo, "I's where I belong, Raubahn. I'll be cuttin' throats an' shootin' men an' slashin Garlean bellies open an' fuck if I don't love it." She laughed, a sad, coughing, half-cried noise, and a smile spread across her face which seemed so unnatural Raubahn wanted to weep actual tears at the weight of it. "It feels so good, Raubahn. T'be down there, arrows'n'shot'cannon flyin' everywhere, people screamin', dust an' blood an' shite in m'eyes, fightin' an' dyin' in th'dirt. Feels right. Feels like...like home."

"Baatar-"

"-I does this dream, like I always does," Baatar whispered, "'cept next thing, I's killing other folks, too. Firs' I's killin' the Garleans. Then I's killin' m'own comrades. Eorzean Alliance folk. Then I's killin' - I - I - m'own friends. Estinien. Aymeric. Thancred. Krile. Tataru."

She was crying, truly crying, now, tears coming down her face as her whole body shook with ragged breaths.

"I kills Shtola - I kills m'own brother's WIFE, an' he comes at me, an' I kills him too! I kills Oyuun, an' Momo, an' I kills me mum, I kills everyone! You! Nanamo! Kanna! Dead! An' th'whole time I'm smilin' Raubahn, I'm fuckin' smilin' an' laughin' my fuckin' arse off, d'yunderstand?"

"Baatarsaikh-"

"-DO YOU, Raubahn? I feels it, the, the warmth, it - I loves th'act so much, and I dreams I want t'be stoppin', but I can't be doin' that. And then I sees that cockstain Zenos, puttin' 'is hands out, tellin' me I's like 'im, an' - an' - an' I takes his fuckin' hand, Raubahn, I takes it an' he gives me 'is sword an' I puts me fuckin' arms 'round hi-"

"-ENOUGH," Raubahn roared - loud enough to cut the woman off, and yanked her into an embrace; he held her shaking, sobbing form with as much force as he could, and pulled her head into his shoulder. "Enough, enough, damn you! You are not Zenos. You are not like Zenos. You are-"

"-a monster, s'what I'll be," Baatar bawled into his shoulder. "A gods-dammned animal. Ye takes me off me leash and ye points-"

"-I said that was enough." He held her harder, with force, now, enough to force her quivering form to cease its shaking, if even only for a moment. "It's okay. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, Baatar, it's okay. You - damn it, I'll not have you sit here and let you speak ill yourself like this, Baatar."

Her crying was quiet, now her words half-formed strings of curses and sobs. With some effort Raubahn lifted the limp, weeping Xaela, holding her small form to his chest and carefully made his way over to his bed; he sat on its edge, leaning against the wooden brace of the tent's canvas wall and placed her head in his lap, stroking her hair.

"It's okay. It is okay, Baatarsaikhan. Everything is okay. It was a dream. A nightmare. But we are here, we are all here, and it is okay," Raubahn repeated softly, over and over. "It is okay. You are a good person. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. We're still all here. We all love you. You're a good person."

She tried to argue, but by now Baatar seemed only half-concious, half-awake; even so, her murmured words, muffled as she spoke into his belly, were perfectly clear to him. 

"No, Baatar. You're not going to be like Zenos. If you did, you wouldn't have worried. You wouldn't have come to see me. It's okay. Everything is okay, alright?"

So it was that Raubahn spent what felt like bells, saying the same words over and over, stroking her hair, patting her back, shushing and reassuring her as he would a child.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, blinking several times as he realized at some point he must have fallen asleep. 

Baatar was gone and the chronometer on the wall read as seven in the morning.

"Damn you, where'd you-"

A small note was on the bed next to him; the chocobo-scratch handwriting on it was instantly recognizable.

_Thank you very much._  
_I am sorry for being so silly._  
_Won't happen again._  
_Must return to duty._  
_See you soon._

He smiled, slightly, examining the note with a shake of his head.

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," he muttered to himself as he tucked the note into a pocket; Raubahn stretched, doing his best to ease the ache that came with sitting in the same position for so long, and exited his tent.

"General Aldynn," the tired looking hyuran guard greeted, snapping a quick salute. "Corporal Lihito left to use the toilets, and as our shift ends in a few moments I-"

"-Good morning, Corporal Windstrike. It is quite alright," he reassured the young man. "You needn't worry."

"Thank you, General."

A long pause.

"Ah, Captain Kha left about a bell ago," Egil said quietly. "Is...everything alright? We - Corporal Lihito and I - heard little, but it was obvious from the, ah, noise, that she was upset."

Raubahn felt the folded parchment in his pocket and sighed. "I believe everything is alright. Captain Kha is a strong woman. She will endure."

Egil smiled. "That's good to hear, sir. Can't imagine fighting this war without her."

"No. No, neither can I," Raubahn said, staring at the sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> Baatarsaikhan Kha was the first character fleshed out for Cyx and her struggles with who she is and what she does best is something that was and always will be a core part of Cyx and her own character.
> 
> The Eorzean Alliance marching cadence sung by our two drill instructors is adapted from real life US military marching songs. 
> 
> Baatarsaikhan and Raubahn. Two soldiers who both find their place in war without any problem - and maybe that is the problem...


End file.
